Shadows of the Mind
by Talen Kurikson
Summary: Without the memories of his past, how can Robin make choices about his future, especially with Slade whispering in his ear?
1. Vision of Nothing

Talen : Good day, readers. After some deliberation, I have decided to make my attempt at writing a decent piece of fanfiction. I truly hope you enjoy it. As this is my first piece, expect some revision in both the format and story line, though I will always try to warn of those.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of these characters, not even my knowledge of them. I've "borrowed" them for an indefinite amount of time.

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Chapter 1: Vision of Nothing

–?–

It wasn't quite pain, but a hurtful soreness that he first registered. His body ached all over, like he had pushed himself too far too fast and was now paying the consequences. The only thing that really hurt was his head; a pounding throb behind his eyes the nestled in the depths of his brain. Eventually, he knew, he'd have to open his eyes to see where he was. Slowly he forced his eyes to open and was rewarded with darkness. It was simultaneously both comforting and disturbing. For one, it meant that his headache didn't get any worse, and for the other, well he still had no idea where he was.

By pushing himself up he was able to get a better look around. He was in a small room of some sort. Mostly bare, there was the bed he was lying in and a chest of drawers on the other side of the room. Closer to the bed there was a desk with a lamp, turned off course. There were other things on the desk, but it was too dark to make anything else out. Also in the room there were two doors, both closed.

Bypassing the desk and drawers, he went straight for the first door. It opened smoothly and silently to reveal a bathroom. A light switch by the door quickly illuminated the room. It was a basic bathroom, nothing special. Toiletries indicated that the bathroom probably belonged to a young male. Clean and functional, there was no luxurious bathtub, only a small shower stall. Against the wall, above the sink, there was a cupboard mirror.

Looking into it, he was greeted with the site of a young man in his teens, maybe sixteen or seventeen. Sharp, spiky, black hair and fine crafted features stared back. But most peculiarly, he was wearing a mask. His hand reached up to touch his face, to confirm what his eyes saw. A thin, black-lined mask that hid the eyes beneath a veil of white. _Why am I wearing a mask?_

Closing his eyes he scanned for information that would give answers to the questions that were forming in his mind. There was nothing there. No information of what had happened or where he was. Or who he was.

Frantically, he searched his mind for something, anything that would tell him who he was: birthday, family, birth place, social security number, anything. He couldn't even remember his own name! He snapped his eyes open and winced as light once again filled his vision. Lifting the mask caused even more light to pour in to his eyes, so he quickly abandoned that attempt. He couldn't remember the color of his eyes.

Panic flushed through him, and he had to grip the sink to keep from collapsing on the floor. At the height of his anxiety, when his heart was in his throat and his lags turning to jelly, a voice cut through the depths of his mind. _Don't panic. Never panic. Panicking might get you hurt, even killed._ Strange as it may be, that voice calmed him allowed him to find his center.

He walked through the first room and examined the other door. It, too, opened smoothly and quietly revealing a staircase with a door at the top, this one with light streaming around its cracks. As he crept up the steps, he noticed that he didn't make any noise at all. The stealth came naturally to him as most ingrained instincts do. Still, no information flashed through his mind to explain this usual habit. Forcing himself to concentrate, he pushed aside the reactionary fear at his lack of self-knowledge and continued up the stairs.

The door at the top wasn't locked either, but the light from the other room speared through his eyes as the door opened and left him at a momentary disadvantage. Shutting his eyes was an involuntary reaction, but already his other senses were compensating to cover for that. Sounds of a person moving, pans and other cookware being adjusted. This was reinforced with the smell of food, which turned his stomach ever so slightly.

"Very good, it is time for you to awaken." The voice was smooth, and despite the words, very dangerous. _I know that voice._ It was tantalizingly close, just out of grasp, were it seemed all of his memories were.

For the second time that day he forced his eyes open. The room was a pleasant, cheerful color. An average kitchen that one might find in any home. By the stove stood a man just putting breakfast on plates to be served. He had bristly brown hair that was showered with gray. His movements were simultaneously gracefully unhurried and still contained a military efficiency. The man turned around and it was immediately seen that he was missing his left eye, cover by a simple black patch.

"Well, Robin, do you feel well enough to eat?"

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Talen: I would like to apologize, for I know nothing of how the other character looks without his mask. I am, as always, open to suggestion and constructive criticism. Thank you for your time in reading this small segment.

May the best of luck always follow you.


	2. Breakfast of Questions

Talen: Honored Readers, thank you so much for your reviews. I shall endeavor to continue the particular flow of this story, since so many of you appreciated that aspect of the tale. So, for your eyes, this one presents the next chapter of _Shadows of the Mind_.

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—Last Chapter—

_Closing his eyes he scanned for information that would give answers to the questions that were forming in his mind. There was nothing there. No information of what had happened or where he was. Or who he was._

_The man turned around and it was immediately seen that he was missing his left eye, cover by a simple black patch._

"_Well, Robin, do you feel well enough to eat?"_

Chapter 2: Breakfast of Questions

–Rob–

_Robin._ He knew that name. It sounded familiar, it sounded right. Something in him settled, comforted by that small faucet of his self-awareness. Robin looked at the man again, studied him closely. _High-level combatant, graceful but with and edge to his movements. Probably ex- military, too bored with civilian life after he left. _Although Robin knew all of this about this man, he could not understand how or why he would be able to deduce this information by watching the man for only thirty seconds.

"I asked you a question, Robin. Are you well enough to eat?" There was a tone of authority behind the words this time; one that hinted at consequences if the command was not obeyed. Robin briefly considered his health and resolved that not only was he well enough to eat, his body decided that food was fast becoming necessary. Still, first thing first.

"Who are you?" His voice, he was pleased to note, was calm and assured, showing nothing of his inner anxiety. The man studied him this time, revealing nothing from is one eye. After a brief pause, he put a plate full of breakfast on the table and motioned for Robin to sit and eat.

"A better question would be 'what do you remember?'" The man sat at the other side of the table and began eating his own meal. Robin cautiously sat down and the plate before him, all the while keeping one eye on his breakfast companion. The food was good, but settled uneasily on his stomach, probably due to left over nausea from . . . _what?_ AS if sensing the sudden chasm in his mind, the man began speaking.

"You were involved in an … accident. There were some injuries sustained, but they were all minor. Still with all head injures one can expect a certain amount of disorientation. I know of a doctor that can be reasonable trusted. If you can hold down your breakfast, we'll go see him." Robin paused in his eating to wrap his mind around this new information. _An accident, possible head injury. _That definitely fit the headache and the aversion to light, but that didn't answer one very pertinent question.

"Who are you?" The man rose, now finished with his own breakfast, and started to clean his dishes.

"You have always called me Slade. Finish your breakfast and meet me in the Entry hall." And with that he left. Robin quickly finished his breakfast and, despite his queasiness, it stayed down. As he got up and took care of his own dishes, he pondered the course of action left open to him.

_I can simply leave and attempt to find the answers on my own._ That did appeal to him because there is just something about that man, about Slade that put him on edge. The trouble was that he didn't know anything about himself and had nowhere to go. He didn't even know he had the smarts to be able to survive out in the world alone normally, not to mention in his condition. _I could follow Slade and allow him to aid me._ That concept set off a deep repugnance within him. But, in spite of everything, the man had shown no inclination to do him harm. _I'll go with him for now. I can always leave if I discover anything._ Course of action decided, Robin followed out the door after Slade.

Process of elimination quickly led Robin to the entry hall. Slade was there, standing with his arms crossed and looking oddly pleased with something. Not that that was actually betrayed by his expression, Robin more or less sensed it from his presence. Slade was like a cat that had spotted the mouse in just the right spot and was preparing to leap.

"Your mask will make you stick out at this time of day." The implicated command to take it off hung heavily in the air.

Slowly Robin reached up and placed his hand at the edge of his mask. "Why Do I have a mask on in the first place?" Robin hated that admission the he didn't know, especially to Slade.

"Why else, to conceal your identity. I promised you that I would never take your mask off without your consent." Still, Robin was hesitant to pull off the mask. _If he's lying to me, there's nothing to say that he didn't look before._ Just as he was about to go through with it, Slade held out his hand. In it was a pair of dark sunglasses. Without explanation, Slade turned on his heel and strolled out the door, giving Robin plenty of time to swap his mask for the glasses and follow him.

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Talen: For the longest time, I could not determine whether our not I should have Robin reveal himself. I am still undecided in this matter. I humbly ask the readers opinion on the issue of the mask. Thank you for your time.

May the winds of fortune follow you.


	3. Dark at the End of the Tunnel

Talen: Honored readers, I most humbly apologized for the delay in this chapter. There were various technical difficulties that had to be addressed. Thank you as well for the comments in the reviews, they are much appreciated. For my most revered readers, here is the next chapter.

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—Last Chapter— 

"_Who are you?" _

"_You have always called me Slade. _

"_You were involved in an … accident. There were some injuries sustained, but they were all minor. Still with all head injuries one can expect a certain amount of disorientation. I know of a doctor that can be reasonably trusted. If you can hold down your breakfast, we'll go see him." _

_Without explanation, Slade turned on his heel and strolled out the door, giving Robin plenty of time to swap his mask for the glasses and follow him._

Chapter 3: Dark at the End of the Tunnel

-Rob–

Slade set a brisk pace down the street, giving Robin only a limited time to analyze his settings. While the neighborhood wasn't a thriving suburb, it wasn't in the slums either. There was a nostalgic air to the place that said twenty years ago there had been carefully cut lawns and white picket fences. Now there was a hint of decay to the buildings, and the people were as ghosts, so wrapped in their own lives that no one paid any attention to anything else. "_The perfect place to hide," _thought Robin. But the question nagged at him, "_what are we hiding from_."

"Hurry up, Robin, don't fall behind." For all his concerned words, Slade moved even faster, and began weaving between the people and objects in his path as the two traveled into a seedier part of the city. It was a quite a city. High skyscrapers revealed themselves as the sound of traffic assaulted Robin's ears. The crowds became thicker and he was finding himself needing to jog to keep up.

Faster and faster Slade went, as if he was determined to lose Robin in the rush of people. Robin picked up his own speed, eyes scanning for the few glimpses of the one-eyed man he could catch. It wasn't long before he was slipping between the crowds in a full out run, not wanted to be lost in a city that he didn't even know the name of.

Right when Robin thought he had lost Slade for good, a strangely familiar voice rang through his head. _Disappearing in a crowd is simple; it is just a matter of stepping where people aren't looking for you._ Without take time to consider where is odd snippet of information came from he immediately made use of it. _All right, if he's avoiding the places I am looking for him, where am I **not **looking for him?_

An idea came to him and Robin spun around in time to catch a glimpse of Slade vanishing down an alleyway. He darted around people and ducked, taking a sudden change in direction, only to skid to a stop before the entry to the alley.

It was dark and dank, something out of a bad movie. One where a curious passerby get mugged and killed. Still he was sure that Slade went this way, and he had to find him. Who else had all the answers? _I wish I had a weapon,_ was his thought as he walked into the darkness. It fluttered across his mind that he didn't even know if he could use one.

Apprehension filled his being and the feeling of watched became a tangible presence embedded between his shoulder blades. As he walked on he could sense people moving in the shadows, enemies surrounding him. "_Six here and one on the fire escape."_ He could tell they were working up to something, trying to scare a reaction from. "_I need to get this over with."_ A small smirk appeared on his lips. _"Besides, I'd hate to disappoint." _

"Who's there?" In his voice he let slip the tiniest indication of fear. That strange and dark voice came again into his mind: _Criminals in general, and gangs in particular use fear as a weapon to give them an advantage over their opponents._ With that in mind he would use his own pretended fear as a lure to the trap.

"Well, well, well. What 'ave we got 'ere?" The leader of the group stepped forward, three of the others with him. He was a lanky youth, a punk who obviously ruled over his fellows with strength and fear. Well-toned muscles and the way the leader carried himself showed that he had fought, and won, many fights. "Looks like this poor fellow's got 'imself lost."

"I'm just passing through, I have no intention to remain." Again Robin allowed his voice to wobble. Instincts began preparing his body for battle, shifting muscles and lowering his center of gravity.

"Unfor-chun-atley you're in our territory, an' we don't take kindly to people 'passing through', do we, Cash?" The leader sneered at Robin.

"Nope, not at all." Cash was the one immediately to his left. About the same age as the leader he was much bigger, he would be a giant of a man when he quit growing. "_If he lives that long_." Robin quipped to himself. "We should do him a favor an' teach to choose his routes better."

The leader barked out a laugh and sneered again. "Right you are, Cash, right you are." He gestured abruptly and the two still lurking in the shadows lunged out to grab Robin and hold him for his 'lesson.'

But Robin was ready for him. He rolled forward, causing Shadow One and Shadow Two to crash into each other. He continued his roll and shot up in the last minute, dropping Cash with a well-placed blow to the jaw.

The Leader recovered quickly at seeing his victim down his right-hand-man so fast and swung a fist at him. Robin jumped over the fist and flipped over the Leader, pushing him into Nameless Goon One in the process. Landing on his feet, Robin immediately ducked low, dodging the blow that was coming from Nameless Goon Two.

Still crouched low, he spun around with a kick and sent the youths legs flying out from underneath him. Jumping up he slammed an elbow in to Nameless Goon Two's stomach, keeping him out of the fight. Now that he could turn his attention back to the rest he saw that the leader had crashed into the other boy hard enough that Nameless Goon One was no longer a threat. That left the Leader, Shadow One, and Shadow Two.

The Leader faced Robin warily, with a lot more respect than before. Rather than waste more time, however, Robin charged the youth, jumping just before he reached him to grab hold of a fire escape and pull himself up. Amid the curses and insults of the leader, Robin climbed swiftly to the roof.

Once there, he ran fearlessly on top of the edges of the roof down the alley. He looked for any sign of Slade and found none. While he ran, his mind churned with thoughts. _How did I know how to fight like that? It was all instinct; just what is it I am capable of? Who am I ! _

­–Slade–

This was excellent. Robin remembered so much more about combat than he expected him to. As much as he appreciated having a completely blank sheet to work with, there had been the concern that he would have to teach the boy everything from scratch. But it seemed Robin retained the more deeply ingrained of his skills. Everything could be altered and polished to Slade's requirements. Requirements Robin would be only too happy to fulfill once he had the boy's complete trust.

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Talen: This one had certain difficulties with the fighting scenes. Also, over-all, I had trouble with the flow and movement in the story as pertaining to the phrasing. For those of the readers who felt the story lacking this one respectfully asks for their words of wisdom in its correction. 

May the Lady of Fate smile upon you.


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